Faltered Kiss

/ Liz H-H
Goofy headshot of the author, surprised. Hello!

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=FLAG. Read, write and come back for more  SIX SENTENCE STORIES.   This is all I got for you right now!

My head is hot, tight—gimme a squeeze and my eyeballs will pop,
Plop into the space that separates your body from mine—
You’d burn from the kiss I might steal were I not so sick.
But it’s all right.

No COVID, nor RSD, too intense for a simple head cold,
Which leaves us with a self-diagnosis of sinus infection or flu:
My joints ache and skin hurts as my main meals are swallowed snot.
This too shall pass.

My body mocks me, a sneeze five minutes before a trail of snot slides down my chin
Like tears, soaking the already moist (ew) tissue grabbed up,
Then discarded back onto the pile of other wet ones.
Let’s flag kisses for later, Dear; will you still love me tomorrow—
Well, next week?

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2026)

9 thoughts on “Faltered Kiss”

Hello!